


When Blue Met Pink

by mourntheantagonist



Series: Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Coming Out, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Gender Non-Conforming Billy Hargrove, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Lingerie, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Makeup, Nail Polish, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supportive Joyce Byers, Supportive Steve Harrington
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mourntheantagonist/pseuds/mourntheantagonist
Summary: Billy learns to fully embrace himself, just one person at a time (and with a little bit of smeared lipstick on the way).(should be read as part of the series)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Dustin Henderson, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Joyce Byers & Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson
Series: Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096136
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	1. Joyce

**Author's Note:**

> tysm to [peterqpan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterqpan) and [PaperBodies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperBodies) for the beta read!

Billy pulled into the parking space outside of Melvald’s with a screech of the tires. The body of the car slightly jerked forward once he finally came to a complete stop just before he would hit the yellow parking block. The right tire sat just outside the white line, a rookie looking parking job to say the least. 

With his wallet in one hand, and his keys twirled around the index finder of his other, as he heard the metal pieces clank, he walked through the glass doors into the store. He heard the chime of the opening door ring through the mostly empty space.There were only a few people. An old lady who was carefully inspecting the soup aisle, and a middle aged woman with her toddler son who were walking past the ice cream. The little kid with his hand up in the air, his finger pointed to the tub of rocky road that was barely visible through fogged over glass. He noticed the exhausted eyes of the woman masked by heavy mascara and shadow. “I already said no Daniel.” she sighed. Joyce Byers was at the counter, her elbows resting by the cash register, head propped up in her hands as she stared blankly in front of her with her head tilted in a way that indicated she was thinking about something that the rest of the world just couldn’t comprehend. 

He ignored the total three figures that roamed the aisles of the small little corner store, offered a wave and a smile to Mrs. Byers that went completely unnoticed, and got to the task at hand. Not there to pick up some milk or butter like Neil always had him do whenever they ran out, as if he was the one sneaking spoonfuls of butter at two in the morning. No, that was all Max, the fucking weirdo. He also wasn’t there to pick up a pack of cigarettes, though he probably would once he got to the counter, considering the phrase “pack of reds” served as his default greeting to every cashier. He was there, at Melvald’s, at three in the afternoon, like a _fucking_ _sap_ , because he was buying little treats for the boyfriend he had waiting for him at the big house off of 3rd avenue, a movie and hopefully _more_ as their evening plans. 

He knew what Steve liked. He _hated_ what Steve liked. But despite his utter disgust over strawberry fruit snacks tainting delicious cheddar cheese popcorn, the smile on Steve’s face whenever he tossed a new box of Sunkist Fun Fruits at him was worth the effort of sifting through the bowl. He located the snack aisle and picked out the familiar yellow and red box, along with some Orville Redenbacher. The time on the clock overhead read only a quarter after three, and Steve wouldn’t be home from dealing with the nerd herd until at least a quarter ‘til, so with his extra time, he continued to browse. 

He picked up a couple of other things. A box of Twinkies so he could make some of his favorite jokes, some Ho Hos so Steve could make some of his. The basket was slowly filled to the brim with junk food, indicative of a truly _wild_ night ahead of him. 

On his way to the refrigerated section to scope out the drinks, the glimpse of a carefully assorted rainbow of colors stopped him in his tracks. It’s a small section, no more than two and a half feet in diameter, but at almost the instant he recognized the familiarly shaped bottles on display, he went on complete pause. There was nobody anywhere around him, no sound of nearing footsteps, so he let himself stand there and ponder. Let himself imagine just reaching out and touching something on display as he kept his eyes averted, locked straightforwardly toward the cases of beer behind translucent refrigerator doors. He just stared blankly, with an inner attempt to form some reasonable excuse to be a man who was looking at makeup.

_“Oh, Max asked me to pick it up for her.”_

He settled on that one.

And turned his head. 

He was just going to look. That was all.

There held a whole magnitude of various beauty products, from polishes, to moisturizers, to lipsticks…

That rosy pink stared right back at him like it was screaming at him to pick it up. To look. To swatch. To _taste._ To feel that velvety cream cover his lips. A tint similar to that of his own lips but just more… pretty. Smooth and elegant and airbrushed. _“Soft matte look,”_ it read. 

He wanted it.

He wanted to add it into the basket of goodies he’s already collected as another treat for himself. Maybe a treat for Steve if he decides he likes it. 

They discussed it in the past in a very, tip-toed around the subject kind of way. Steve gently held his hand in his as he applied a light pink varnish, similar to that of the lipstick shade, onto his nails. Steady hands perfectly coated the area without any sign of streaks or rough edges. They’d reached a point where that was routine, a little thing Billy could have of himself while they were alone together. Another thing they could add onto the list. It was something Billy felt just a little bit of safety around taking with him that one time. When the night had gone so perfectly with hot cocoa by the furnace, and the added bonus that Neil wouldn’t be home to inspect his appearance, he said no to the cotton balls and acetone and the clear coat replacement and instead let color coated nails remain under the cloak of his jacket pockets. He was on cloud nine as he walked through the door of his own house with concealed hands and no questions asked. He locked the door to his room and allowed himself to stare down at his hands. Fingers splayed against his bedding looking at how the pink contrasted with the blue of his sheets, and he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and a little dash of pride. 

That same night, while his nails were going from bland to bold, Steve popped the question like it held no weight at all. Like it was just a casual sort of thing used to fill the silent gaps. 

“Have you thought about wearing makeup at all?”

He didn’t even look at him when he said it, completely enthralled in the way the bristles contacted the nail, so he didn’t see Billy's eyes widen like saucers. However, he did notice as the hand in his hold began trembling.

Steve ever so slightly tightened his grip to help reduce the shaking, his eyes angled up at Billy finally, the painting temporarily discontinued. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

No. Yes? The thing was, with Steve’s first question, the answer was yes. He had thought about it. All the damn time. Like a woodpecker pecking away at his skull, he thought about it. Every time he saw a woman with a shimmer on her eyes, black in her waterline, a shine to her lips, a rosy tint to her cheeks… he felt unbridled envy. He wanted to feel the way they felt. Billy wanted powder to clog his pores and give his face a uniform color. Become a blank slate. He envied that soft and smooth and gentle and _pretty_ appearance _._

He found himself on more than one occasion sneaking into the master bathroom where Susan had kept all of her make up. Too scared to touch it, he would just look at it. Try to psyche himself up to reach for that little tube of Mary Kay mascara and shove it into his pocket before the rumble of the truck outside would shake the house. 

Instead he would slam the drawer shut and rush back to his room and forget it even happened as he bit away at his clear coated nails. He’d fall back onto his pillow and let his eyes fall shut. He would let the darkness consume him into a dream where he didn’t have to be afraid to add volume to his already long lashes or add a tinted gloss to his lips. He’d enjoy the free feeling for as long as it would last. 

So yeah. He thought about wearing makeup.

He didn’t tell Steve that though. Instead he chose to only respond to the second question. Because some things were just a little too hard to say out loud. Some things were a little too foreign.

As much as Billy wanted to bridge that gap between femininity and masculinity, he also had every desire to keep them separate. To push away all of those urges to wear lacy lingerie and silk panties. Keep his hair short, face and nails bare and unkempt. Smell of sweat and hard work like a _man._ “I’m fine.” he said in lieu of the complete truth. It didn’t feel or sound like a lie when he said it. But later on he figures out that it definitely was. 

They had that conversation already, but it didn’t keep those thoughts from lingering. His mind was boggled with confusion about who he was and what he liked and the additional bafflement over how simple it all was to Steve. 

So simple in fact that he said the most perfect thing as if it was just another instinctual flick of the tongue.

“Well I can bet you’d look real pretty with lipstick.”

It was said like he _wants_ it. Not just for Billy’s sake, but his own, and that right there felt amazing. 

That was the first night he finally let his hands sift through that drawer of Susan’s and sneak away a couple of items. Susan and Neil had yet to arrive home from their trip into the city so Billy was safe. He had painted nails that felt like a shield. When he held the tube of mascara, the nude bullet lipstick, and the only bottle of polish he could find in his own hands, he felt completely untouchable. 

He locked himself in his own room and stood in front of his makeshift vanity. Tossed the stolen objects into the mess of cologne, hairspray, and cigarette ash. He just studied himself for a moment. Hunched over taking deep and shaky breaths, in and out. Every logical thought in his mind was shouting at him to go put it back. To put it somewhere _other than his room_. That dreadful thought that just its temporary occupancy in his room would be easily detected by Neil, even if he chucked it out of his window right then, scared him. It was all too risky to be doing in his own house, yet he still twisted open the cap of the mascara and pulled out the wand. 

It was in that moment that Billy had no fucking clue what he was doing. Didn’t even know where to begin. 

He just closed it right back up, slipped it underneath a stack of records, and moved on. He twisted open the lipstick only to be met with a very light shade. Lighter than his own skin color. Applied to his lips it just looked absolutely ridiculous. It didn’t give him that pop of vibrancy he envied in the women he saw. It made his lips feel more sunken in and lifeless, rather than big and beautiful. 

And he already knew he hated the nail polish. He didn’t even have to apply it. It was a rust color, like a dirty orange. Billy hated the color orange, and mixing it with brown didn’t fucking improve it. 

It was all a total bust. A complete waste of his energy. With his sleeve he wiped the lipstick from his lips and stowed away the rest of the contraband. He went to bed feeling extra shitty, the despair of empty darkness was the only thing included in his night. 

He stopped letting himself think about makeup since that night. All it achieved was making him feel disappointed and just... bad. No other way to describe it.

But it all came flooding back when he saw the display. Not the bad feelings, the good ones, the ones he had in his dreams. The feeling of completion that couldn’t be realized with the makeup Susan guilt purchased off of a friend’s “growing small business.” There was a little hope growing in the pit of his stomach as he let himself peruse the many options at his disposal. A little bit of hope that maybe he just didn’t have the right stuff. 

He just held the pink lipstick in his hand. He debated between dropping it into the basket or hanging it back up on the hook. Twiddling it in between his fingers, he let his mind race to many different places. Emotions of fear and joy clashed in his mind, like he couldn’t have one without facing the other.

But fear wasn’t dependent on joy. Because a small woman cleared her throat next to him and, surely enough, the only thing he was feeling at that moment was complete terror. Not an ounce of happiness to be seen.

It was Joyce Byers.

_Well shit._

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, neck craned to the left to make out what he had tightly clasped between his fingers.

“It’s for Max.” he said, too assuredly. Like it was clearly a prepared statement, the lie obvious in the pitch of his voice.

“Really? Max doesn’t strike me as a makeup girl.” It’s not _really_ accusatory, not necessarily. But he could hear it. That ever so slight undertone in her voice that had disbelief written all over it. Her head was cocked just like it was when he first walked into the store, and it felt like she was reading him like a goddamn open book. 

Billy couldn’t seem to find the words, unsure how to defend himself in the situation he was completely unprepared for. Stood there in silence as he let the words filter through his brain, waiting for the right ones to pop up in front of him, but they never did. He never really knew how to talk to older women other than through excessive and overdone flirtation.

“What shade did you pick?”

With no other choice in his immediate thoughts, he handed the lipstick tube over. She slowly took it away from his slightly too tight of a grip. She had a slight smile when she pulled off the cap to see the rose colored tip slowly rise out as she twists the bottom of the silver tube. 

“This is pretty, though I think a shade like this would complement a skin tone more like your own. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

That was the invitation, right there in that subtle little nod. She made eye contact with him before she quickly turned her eyes downward at his hands. the same hands that were nervously chipping away at dried, hideous, rust colored nail polish that he painted just before he left as a little surprise for Steve. Even though he hated the color, even though his right hand looked much better than his left. Ambidexterity was not something in his wheelhouse. He immediately stuffed his one free hand into his pocket, and tossed the other one that was currently holding his basket of groceries behind his back. As if she hadn’t already seen. She’d figured him out like some elementary math problem. The lipstick and the nail polish was just a 2 + 2 = 4 kind of situation. 

“I don’t - this isn’t…” He couldn’t get a full sentence out because he really had no clue as to how to deny it, and there’s also a weird feeling that he loathes where he’s not sure he even wants to. She was just Joyce Byers. His only connection to the woman had a pretty long chain. Steve’s ex’s boyfriend’s Mom. Or Max’s friend’s Mom. Nothing direct. Nothing so close that he had to _truly_ fear. Additionally, she was being _nice?_ She wasn’t doing the things he’d always expected people to do. She wasn’t spewing slurs or making fun. There was a genuine motherly interest in the way she asked for the color that wasn’t completely foreign, but it was something so far away in his past that it might as well have been. 

His face got red from just his own natural blush. His heart was racing, beating out of his chest until he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He felt like he’s being submerged under water until there was a small, cold hand pulling at his own. 

“Come with me.” she says, her voice soft and planned. Billy just let her guide him, giving up and giving in to the little temptation to let someone else inside of the little sanctuary he built for himself. Even if all it was was just a small little glimpse into Billy’s secret world he’d only just begun exploring. He had so many things left to discover, things he wouldn’t find if he let his fear and shame dictate everything.

Joyce led him into the compact supply closet in the back of the store. They’re surrounded by shelves filled with boxes and various miscellany. He felt slightly suffocated in the small enclosure, but simultaneously a weird feeling of warmth in the way Joyce smiled at him. A soft upturn of the corners of her mouth, lips still sealed but the sincerity clear in the brightness of her eyes and the slight rise of her brows. 

“What were you looking to get?” she asks. Unspecific yet specific. She left a name unattached to the end of the question on purpose to give Billy the opportunity for an out, if he wanted to deny the thing they both knew to be true. 

“Lipstick? Gloss maybe? I don’t - I’m not sure I…”

After taking the full basket from his hands and setting it onto the floor, Joyce took his hands into her own again. 

“It’s okay, y’know, if it’s not for Max.” 

She was so straightforward. She just got right to the point without it feeling like an attack. Just strode right in with unwavering acceptance and affirmation. Letting him know that it was okay. 

He looked at Joyce and saw his mom. Not the mom who abandoned him with Neil, but the mom who did things like this. The one who would cradle him after a nightmare and who told him he was destined for greatness. The one who encouraged him to be himself even when his father had other ideas. 

“You know who you are. Nobody else gets to say differently.” she’d tell him when his father forced him into baseball and threw out his stuffed animals. Neil would go on to replace the keepsakes that represented softness with model cars and legos. It was just an act of toughening him up and preparing him to become a man at the ripe old age of seven. He was reminded daily of his role as a man in society with little tests just to make sure he stayed in line.

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“Red.” he’d say, when he wanted to say purple.

He’d get berated when he cried when he got hurt.

“If you want to cry I’ll give you something to cry about,” Neil would say, as he stuck a hydrogen peroxide saturated cotton ball into the open wound.

Billy’s Mom never did that. Always warned him about the sting and rubbed his arm the whole way through. Preaching the opposite of everything his Dad would say. “It’s okay to cry, honey. Just let it out.”

His Mom was beautiful. He loved to sit in the bathroom and watch her as she put on her makeup. He’d seen the way her mouth dropped open when she applied mascara to her eyes, the way she smacked her lips together after she swiped on her favorite red lipstick... he wanted to be just like her. 

He’d stolen from her once, and it didn’t end well. It was just a red lipstick. He was caught, almost literally, red handed. When his father had barged into his bedroom without so much as a knock, the red on his lips turned into red elsewhere. It was a mistake he learned never to repeat. 

After all that, there he was, in a store where he listened to a woman tell him that all of the things he was raised to believe were _far_ from okay, were _perfectly_ okay. With Steve’s voice in his head echoing that of his Mom’s and Joyce’s, he let himself actually believe it this time. 

“Thanks.” Billy said. It’s the closest thing he’ll get to an admission. He can’t outright say it, but in the way her smile widened before she turned around, he knew she understood.

“So,” she said, “–I have some product we can’t sell because the seals were broken. They’re still perfectly fine if you would like them.” She pulled a couple of things from the box on the lower shelf. The same lipstick he’d held out in the store along with a clear gloss, a small eyeshadow palette, some face powder and mascara. A full face worth of makeup moved from the palms of her hands into his own, accepting them with a nod of his head and the sniffle of someone trying to hold back tears. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. A question with multiple meanings. All of which Joyce seems to pick up on. She pulled him into a tight hug. A warmth encompassed him all around that made him feel so overcome and just… good. Joyful and free like a painful growth was painlessly removed along with the truth’s reveal.

“Yes. I’m sure Billy. It’s okay.” An answer with multiple meanings.

They both exit the small closet, it felt like a metaphor for something. He headed up to the counter to buy his items, and Joyce began scanning his things when she got another smile on her face.

“Special occasion tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah. I got a hot date.” Not a lie. 

She laughed a little before she punched the keys on the register. 

“Anything else I can get for you Billy?”

Billy smiled. 

“A pack of Reds.”

\- : -

When Billy pulled into the driveway of Steve’s house he barged right in through the front door. He held the paper bag close to his chest and he shouted an “I have arrived!” that echoed up the stairs and all the way up to Steve’s room. Billy could hear the springs of Steve’s bed before he got up and rushed down the stairs to greet him with a little peck on the lips, immediately taking the bag from Billy’s hands to begin the formal review of his selections.

Steve set the bag onto the coffee table and began to sift through all of the things Billy bought. He tossed the cigarette pack at Billy with aggressive force before going right back into the bag. 

The _real surprise_ laid close to the bottom of the bag, hidden beneath the Twinkies and the popcorn and all the other junk food that had Steve beaming. Food was truly the easiest way to Steve’s heart. 

Billy stood there tapping his foot and grabbing at his hands behind his back as he waited for Steve to see all the other things he got, to give him that little reaction he always knew would be positive, no matter the voices in his head that told him otherwise. 

He seemed to have reached the bottom of the bag when he stalled. He just stared into the bottom of the brown paper bag, the table already covered in scattered candy and snacks, the only things left in the bag were the gifts from Joyce. 

“Please tell me you’re going to put this on tonight.” Steve finally turned to look at him with an absolute ridiculous smile on his face. His mouth and eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider than they were right then. He seemed so fucking excited and it all radiated straight into Billy, and all he could do was walk up to him and kiss him. Billy pulled Steve’s face with both hands and practically consumed him like he was one of those Hostess desserts. Two untameable smiles pressed up against each other. 

Billy reached for the tube of lipstick out of the bag and held it in between the two of them, he asked, “Are you going to help me put it on?”

Billy was wrong. Steve’s smile _could_ get wider. Steve took Billy by the hand and sat him down on the couch, taking the bag with him as he straddled Billy’s lap.

“You know what you’re doing pretty boy?” Billy asked. He pushed Steve’s hair behind his ears as he looked up at him in awe. He relished in Steve’s excitement that was perfectly matching his own. It was all he could ever ask for. 

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve seen Nancy do it enough times.” Billy rolls his eyes at the mention of her name. Steve poked him in the face, causing Billy's face to scrunch. “Oh get over it Billy, I am.”

Billy was already shaking with anticipation and just wanted to get on with it _without_ the mention of Steve’s former girlfriend. “Just shut up. Make me the prettier one.”

“Oh you already are, gorgeous.”

Steve twisted open the lipstick and carefully held Billy’s chin up so he was looking directly at him. With a steady hand and a soft touch, the smooth cream brushed against his lips and coated them to perfection. No overdrawn lines or transferring to his teeth, the color suited him so well, just a soft pink just slightly darker and more vibrant than the color of his own. It made his lips look bolder and fuller than they already were. 

“Now look straight forward for me,” Steve said before he reached into the bag for another piece of product. “–and raise your eyebrows.” Steve twisted and pulled the wand from the metallic gold tube, the black bristles looked like spider legs. “Okay, hold still.”

“I swear to God Steve, if you poke me in the fucking eye–”

“Have some faith in me, damn!”

Fortunately for both Billy _and_ Steve, none of the black goopy liquid found its way into Billy’s eyes. There was only a minor sting that, with time, he could easily see himself get used to. The sensation was followed by the feeling of soft bristles going in circles around his cheeks. Steve had asked him to smile for the application, but that wasn’t the reason he was doing it. The look of focus in Steve’s eyes along with the slight exposure of the tip of his tongue through his mostly sealed lips had sent Billy reeling.

Steve leaned back to get a complete view of his work. “Wow, I’m good.”

“Okay, hot shot,” Billy said with a nudge to his shoulder, “show me then.”

In a moment of surprising strength, Steve hoisted Billy up and over his shoulder by the grab of his ass. Billy’s stomach had come to rest right on the point of Steve’s shoulder, which sent him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. His voice fluctuated and bounced with each step Steve took down the hall toward the bathroom. Billy clung to Steve’s shirt, hiking it up past the midpoint of his as he did so. 

“Oh my god! Put me down!” he laughed.

Billy’s legs flailed, with the result of a knocked over a lamp and a bruised ankle from the abrupt contact with the doorframe.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

Steve sat Billy on the edge of the sink, his face still faced away from the mirror. They were still coming down from their laughter when Billy, seemingly having forgotten about the makeover that he had just been given not even a full minute ago, leant down in an attempt to lay one right onto Steve.

“Hey, don’t ruin it before you even see it!” Steve pushed him back away from him and then helped him down from the sink and with a comforting grip of Billy’s biceps, he turned him around. “See? it looks so good on you!” Steve stood behind Billy with his hands trailing down to his waist, head over his shoulder, looking at him like he was his brilliant creation. Steve Harrington’s masterpiece, his most prized possession. “Wait right here, I got you something.”

Left alone in the bathroom, Billy was able to just let himself stare. Let himself lean in close to the mirror, his nose nearly touched the glass as he studied the tint to his lips, the definition to his lashes, the slight pink to his cheeks... It was the first time he ever looked at himself, like _really_ looked at himself, and saw someone pretty. He truly believed it this time. 

Steve came back with a bag of his own. It was a small bag with a French name on the side of it Black, and elegant, and Billy already had an idea of what’s inside. The day just kept on getting better. Billy tore the tissue out of the bag, and pulled the pieces of fabric out. It was a dust rose garter belt with stockings, panties, and a bralette, a perfect match for his lips. The lace was so sheer and the baroque floral patterns were so elegant he wanted nothing more than to just put it on right there. Strip himself down to the bare essentials and allow the openwork to protect him.

“You think you wanna give me a fashion show?” Steve asked, pulling the sleeves of Billy’s jacket down over his shoulders. Billy smiled and pushed Steve gently out the bathroom door and shut it right in his face. 

He wasted no time putting it on. The way the fabric sat on his hips and his chest felt almost like it was tailored specifically to him. Enough room in the crotch area while also perfectly hugging his hips. The stockings squeezing his thighs just the perfect amount. There was no uncomfortable overhang in the bralette. He had never felt more comfortable wearing anything before. The pink on tan skin, the emphasis on every curve of his. He felt so soft and pretty and almost totally complete. He was just missing one thing.

Billy strutted out of the bathroom with a genuine conviction he’d never had before. There was no fear this time, no tears. Just pure elation at the prospect of Steve seeing him like this. Loving the way he looks in lingerie and makeup. Loving him for who he is and thinking he’s still hot. Still sexy and attractive. 

“Holy shit you look fucking _amazing_ baby.” Steve slowly walked toward him. He took in the whole view, committing the entire sight to memory because it was absolutely glorious. “I hope you aren’t mad,” he began, his hands finding Billy’s hips. “but I had my Mom pick it up while she was in Paris. I found out they make men’s lingerie there and I wanted you to have something special. She doesn’t know who it was for, but she knows I’m dating a guy now.”

They had never really discussed the topic of coming out. It felt like something that didn’t need to be said. Telling people was something so far off the radar of possibility that Billy felt a creeping sensation of absolute dread before he was finally able to open up his mouth to speak. 

“And she was okay with it?”

Steve smiled and bowed his head just slightly. “Surprisingly, yeah. She was the one who wanted to pick something up for you. So I jumped on the chance.”

“Does your Dad know?” Steve laughed and shook his head. 

“God I hope not. His brain would probably explode.” Billy pulled Steve in by the hold of his cheeks, and let their foreheads touch while they stared deep into each other’s eyes. Steve’s hands traced up and down the curves of Billy’s body, fingers dragged against the lace and their smiles were uncontrollable. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”

“Hey,” Billy’s voice was soft, “I’m happy for you.” Steve's sigh of relief was hot against Billy’s mouth. “And thank you, for this.” he said before the distance between them was finally closed and lips were pressed to lips, pink color smeared all over each other’s faces. 

The only thing better than wearing that lipstick was having Steve ruin it.


	2. Max

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max’s Birthdays did always have a little more effort put into them, but it was still just the basic dinner, gifts, and dessert sequence with just a slight bit more care. Susan made a whole deal out of waking her up in the morning singing ‘happy birthday’ to her and making her favorite breakfast, while Billy was lucky to have Neil toss him a morning beer, but still, there were never any outside guests or fun traditions to make the time pass by. So on the day of Max’s fourteenth birthday, she sat there in her room by herself talking to friends on the phone and reading comics, while Billy sat in his, reading books he has read a thousand times before, both of them just waiting for the time on the clock to strike five.

Birthdays at the Hargrove Household were never some extravagant event. Nobody ever had a party where they would get to invite a small number of friends and order a store bought sheet cake from the local grocer. They didn’t play fun party games like pin the tail on the donkey or musical chairs, they only ever had the four of them. Just Neil, Susan, Max, himself, and a lopsided chocolate cake Susan made from a box. It was only ever dinner and dessert, and a short section in the night where they would open gifts. 

Max’s Birthdays did always have a little more effort put into them, but it was still just the basic dinner, gifts, and dessert sequence with just a slight bit more care. Susan made a whole deal out of waking her up in the morning singing ‘happy birthday’ to her and making her favorite breakfast, while Billy was lucky to have Neil toss him a morning beer, but still, there were never any outside guests or fun traditions to make the time pass by. So on the day of Max’s fourteenth birthday, she sat there in her room by herself talking to friends on the phone and reading comics, while Billy sat in his, reading books he has read a thousand times before, both of them just waiting for the time on the clock to strike five.

Because the shitty part about birthdays at the Hargrove Household was that you weren’t allowed to leave unless it was for school or work. They treated birthdays like family days, where no outsiders could enter. They were meant to all be together, that was the idea, except Neil’s idea of togetherness was just being all under the same roof, in separate rooms, wasting away from the complete boredom. 

At five o’clock, they all simultaneously exited the rooms they had all cooped up in and joined Susan in the steam filled kitchen. The smell of chocolate icing and whatever casserole she chose to make occupied the whole house. Max sat down at the table that had one wrapped present sitting on top of it. It was rectangularly shaped with pink paper and a purple bow, a color combination that made Billy laugh. 

“Go ahead and open it up dear,” Susan said, “dinner will be ready in just a moment.”

Billy and Neil followed suit and took their own seats at the dinner table and watched as Max opened up her gift. She tore the paper open without much care, pink scraps flew everywhere. Underneath the pretty mess was a brown cardboard box that was sealed shut with packing tape. Billy watched as she struggled to pull the tape up from the cardboard. He watched as her face tightened as she dug her nails into the cardboard and struggled against the tape’s strength, and eventually slid his keys over to her so she could slice it open and stop the dramatic grunting. She took them with a half smile half smirk and jabbed the key into the space between cardboard flaps like she was mad at it, like she was gutting it for dinner, and dragged the sharp metal the whole length of the box. But, her smile slowly disappeared into just a resting look when she finally saw what was inside.

“What did you get kiddo?” Neil asked after he swallowed a swig of his probably sixth beer of the day. The look on her face was a very recognizable disappointment that seeped through despite the also clear efforts she was giving to conceal it. Her eyes grew soft and her whole face just fell into a dead stare.

“It’s Makeup.” she said. Her voice came out just slightly broken, noticeable only to those who were paying attention to it, noticeable only to Billy. She pulled out a few things from the box at the request of Susan. There was a package full of an entire shade range of sparkly lip glosses, a face palette with blush and bronzer, some nail polishes of all different types of reds, all the way from the darkest burgundy to the brightest scarlet. Max’s reaction differed widely from Billy’s. Just the drop of the word ‘makeup’ made his heart skip a beat. A wave of fear washed over him as paranoia grew. He sat there wondering whether or not he remembered to take off the mascara he was practicing with earlier, were there black smears around his eyes? He looked down at his hands almost as if it were instinct to make sure the only coat on his nails was clear.

He was always very sure though. He had to be. He would rub the cotton pad over his eyes until the whites of them turned red and bloodshot, possibly even bursting a blood vessel in the process. He would make absolutely sure the area was completely clean before he even dared exit the slight safety he had within the four walls of his bedroom. A safety that in no way compared to the ease and comfort he felt under Steve’s roof wrapped up in his arms, but a safety nonetheless.

Max’s disappointment made Billy feel total envy. Jealousy, hate, resentment… She was completely ungrateful. She was not only  _ able _ , but  _ encouraged _ to do all of the things that he would be shamed for, and there she was, with a frown masked behind a fake smile that Billy saw right through, and he was envious. 

And he didn’t like it.

Because he was thinking all of the things people said about people like him, but in the opposite, and about Max. It was a constant battle within himself to fight off the internal monologue telling him how things are  _ supposed _ to be. Billy was  _ supposed  _ to gag at the idea of sleeping with another man and wearing women’s clothing, Max was  _ supposed  _ to be overjoyed with all of this makeup, but instead she faked a smile and put everything right back in the box. She forced out a ‘thank you’ to Susan, and the rest of the evening continued on as if it was just a blip. At least that was how it appeared to everyone but Billy, who let his eyes wander over to the cardboard box on the counter every several minutes because it was always on his mind how that box would just end up in the back of Max’s closet along with all of the other useless things she’d bought in the past. It would all just sit there to collect dust while Billy was out scrounging for scraps because he didn’t have the guts to buy it himself, and Melvald’s only had so much to offer.

They sang happy birthday before the lopsided cake Susan made would eventually topple over due to gravity. Max’s mood seemed to lift as they broke out the dessert, because you really couldn’t go wrong with chocolate cake, even if it came straight out of a Betty Crocker box. It was a strangely okay night despite Billy’s constant averted attention. They all gathered for a movie and for just the two hour run time, they felt a little bit like a normal family. Passing around a popcorn bowl and curled up under blankets, it almost felt like a trap.

He brought his gift to her after the movie. It was a sock full of about ten dollars worth of quarters. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Money for the arcade? A weapon? That’s up to you. Happy birthday.”

She showed her first genuine smile of the night before he left her room.

“Thank you.”

When Billy went to bed that night, the thoughts of Max and her makeup dissolved into his sleep, and he woke up without a trace of the resentment and subsequent guilt he had felt the night before. He went on with his day without a second thought about the box that had been at that moment sitting in the corner of Max’s bedroom along with all the other makeup products Susan had bought before. 

It really had slipped his mind completely. He had other things to think about, other  _ people _ to dream about, it was simply a blip on his radar and it wasn’t until several days later when he was gathering Max’s laundry so he could do an extra load, that it all came flooding back to him. Jealousy pumping through his veins at the sight of all the flavored lip glosses and those little duo eyeshadow palettes that were only a dollar at the drugstore piled high and unopened. 

So he made a bad decision. Uncalculated and reckless and would prove to be something he would regret. He dropped the laundry basket to the ground and began stuffing some things into his pocket. Several eyeshadows and glosses and nail polishes. She never touched them. She wouldn’t miss them. 

And there was no way she would know it was him, right?

Wrong. Because luck was not something Billy had. Because of course Max had to enter the house as quiet as a mouse and not make her presence known. Of course she had to walk right into her bedroom while Billy was wrists deep into the cardboard box full of makeup, with no excuse prepared on the tip of his tongue. 

When they both realized what they were doing they both froze and stared at each other, hoping their lack of movement would serve as invisibility. Max stood with her hand still firmly gripping the door knob and Billy’s hands had quickly retracted from the box, a tube of lipstick still in between his fingers and pockets visibly full with other stolen goods.

Neither of them said a word, too scared and too unsure of exactly what to say. Billy’s heart was in his throat and his fists were clenching tight enough that the glass tube could easily break.

So instead of speaking, instead of coming up with some kind of defense, he ran out. Slightly shoulder checked Max on his way through the door, took a straight path directly to his car outside, and drove to the one and only place he knew to go. The one place that he felt  _ truly  _ safe.

Because he didn’t feel safe right then. He felt like his world was getting ready to implode on itself and he just wanted to have those last few moments of comfort before everything inevitably went to complete shit.

He didn’t let himself cry. He was stone cold the whole drive over to the mansion at the edge of town. He didn’t break down until Steve’s arms were wrapped around him where they stood on the front porch. Sobbing into Steve’s jacket sleeve leaving tear stains and gripping the fabric tight enough between his hands he may leave permanent wrinkles.

“Hey hey hey,” Steve whispered into his ear, squeezing him tighter, surely tight enough to feel the fullness of Billy’s jacket pockets. “What happened baby?”

“I fucked up Steve. I fucked up.” Billy just repeated those last three words over and over again until his voice ran out of breath and they faded into nothingness, just complete silence from mouthed words.

“Come inside.” Steve said, taking Billy’s hand into his. “It’s okay, you’re here with me.”

Steve led Billy in through the doors of his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve’s house was generally a safe haven for Billy, but Steve’s room… he felt like nothing could ever get him when he was in there. Those four walls plastered in hideous plaid wallpaper felt like an indestructible barrier, and he loved that every time he entered that room, a little piece of him found its way inside. A little piece of evidence that he existed.

It had started with the first Polaroid they took with each other. A blurry and overexposed shot of them out at the quarry at the ass crack of dawn when Steve thought that waking up early and watching the sunset would be a good idea. It  _ wasn’t. _ Mosquitoes were everywhere eating at his flesh, it was cold as shit, and they were both starving… But then they saw the sun peek over the horizon and all the desire he had to leave had flipped a switch and suddenly he was glued to his seat in the dirt. Steve’s hand was rested on top of his, completely alone together in total silence getting to witness something beautiful  _ together _ . It was amazing, but Billy would gladly not do it again, or rather stay in the car at least the next time, pack blankets and food so at the very least he’d be able to feel his fingers when he clicked the shutter on the camera. The photo hung on the cork board above his desk next to various others they had taken over time until they eventually ran out of film.

The next thing was the drawer that Steve had cleared out in his dresser after Billy had needed to borrow clothes just one too many times. The very drawer that began this whole journey that Billy was going on. 

The main point was, Steve’s room was eventually starting to become  _ their  _ room. Little by little, piece by piece… And it was  _ safe. _ The place where he laid in bed in that little green lace teddy where Steve had told him he was beautiful and that there was nothing wrong with him. The place where Steve fucked him in the pretty baby blue panties he bought for him. The place Steve took him to take off all that makeup he had just put on him the other day. 

Now it was the room Steve took him to, sat him on the bed, and cradled him in his arms as he cried. 

“Just let it out, it’s okay.” Steve cooed in his ear.

And he did. Loud and unrestricted sobs escaped him until he was completely drained and out of tears and Steve’s crushing hold on him had calmed him down just enough to the point that he could finally speak.

“I stole from Max.” He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out one of the glosses he’d taken. His hand was visibly shaking. “She caught me… she’s gonna… she’s gonna tell her mom or my dad, Steve!” His breathing was growing erratic again and Steve immediately responded by grabbing Billy’s face and angling it toward him so that he was forced to look him directly in the eyes.

“Hey Bills, breathe. I’m right here.” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Max doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just tell like that.”

“Really!?” Billy snapped. “She doesn’t?! Do you not remember how I ended up in this shithole in the first place? Max has no idea how to keep her mouth shut.”

“Billy, that was almost a year ago, and trust me. She’s better at keeping secrets than you think.” Steve ran his fingers through Billy’s hair to try and bring him back to his senses before he completely blew up. He pulled Billy in for a lengthy chaste kiss which proved successful at evening out his staggered breathing. “While you’re here, why don’t we try out some of these stolen goods? I wanna see what this tangerine flavor tastes like.”

Billy’s demeanor finally softened and he handed the gloss over to Steve and let him apply it to his lips. Always so gentle in how he let the applicator slide against them, a striking contrast to how he treated his lips when he was kissing him. Billy smacked his lips together and dragged his own tongue against them. “Tastes good.” he said with a shy smile.

“Well save some for me!” Steve said before pulling Billy back in by the nape of his neck and giving a perfect demonstration of that contrast he mentioned. Taking Billy’s lower lip in between his teeth, sucking on his lips like he was consuming his dessert, which wasn’t necessarily untrue. They kissed each other until every last bit of the lipgloss they had just applied was completely licked off and their mouths were red and puffy. They separated and before Billy could go back in for another round, Steve put his hand up to Billy’s chest to stop him. “As much as I love kissing you, you should probably run home before your dad sends out a search party.”

Billy sighed, because he was right. He ditched the stolen makeup in Steve’s bedroom and said his goodbyes, saying several little prayers to himself so that just maybe, when he finally got home, Max would still be in her room, having not said a fucking word about what she saw.

Sure enough, when he got home, Neil was fortunately working on the truck in the garage, a pretty good sign that Max hadn’t told, but still, he entered that front door with extreme caution. Susan was in the kitchen preparing the leftover spaghetti from the night before for dinner, and Max was nowhere to be seen. Rather than poking the bear, he went directly to his room to actually prepare how he wanted to confront her about it. He just wanted to sit down on his bed and try to relax, but instead there was something in the way.

Sitting on his bed was the same cardboard box he’d had his hands rifling through just an hour ago. Still full of all that still sealed makeup she had acquired over the years. There was a small sticky note attached.

_ “Maybe you’ll be able to get more use out of this shit than I did. - Max” _

He turned around to make sure nobody was there and he was nearly given a heart attack when he saw Max standing in the doorway.

“Jesus you need a fucking bell on you.” he said after trying to recover from the initial shock.

“I covered for you.” Max walked all the way into the room and shut his door behind her. “I’m sorry if I scared you, I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“How did you know it was for me?” he asked, the reluctance clear in the way his voice cracked.

“You looked happy.” she said, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Billy waved the little note he had in his hand and matched her slight smile. “Thank you… for this.” 

Max just nodded. At that point Billy expected Max to just leave his room and that would be it, but she just stood there, like she had more to say.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

Max fiddled with her hands and finally found the courage to get the words out. 

“Where did you go?”

“Huh?” Billy asked, pretending not to understand the question.

Max sighed and finally looked up at Billy with serious eyes. “Did you run off to  _ Steve’s _ after I found you?”

If you had asked Billy how he would have reacted to that question yesterday, he probably would have panicked just like he did when she had caught him in her room. But right then, it was different. He didn’t feel that same panic and fear when he heard Steve’s name pass her lips like that, instead he felt a little proud. He almost felt  _ safe.  _ Just like he did in Steve’s bedroom. He no longer looked at Max and saw the little girl who outed him to his dad or the little brat who ran off when he was supposed to be watching her and later stabbed him in the neck with some needle. Instead, at that moment he saw his  _ sister _ who not only kept her mouth shut about the makeup, but fucking  _ gave it to him. _ He felt  _ safe. _

“Yeah, I did.” he said, his smile didn’t falter.

Max’s smile widened along with his.

“Good. I’m glad.”


	3. Dustin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dustin and Steve had a strange relationship to say the least.

Dustin and Steve had a strange relationship to say the least. It having sprouted in the midst of a  _ second _ interdimensional invasion probably played a role in that. Their friendship was very unusual through the lens of others that stood on the outside of the chaos. For starters, Dustin was a  _ child _ . Friendships of people their age with an age gap like that didn’t really exist unless it was formed from birth, and those two candles were kindled only six months ago. The age gap, however, was hardly the most unusual aspect. Instead that would have to be their whole dynamic. Dustin was loud and nerdy and completely different from Steve, who was pretty quiet and has no concept of what Dungeons and Dragons actually is, yet he’ll let Dustin talk his ear off about it for hours. He’ll sit next to him in the car or on the other side of the phone just nodding his head and peppering in an “uhuh” every so often to give the impression that he’s engaged and interested, when in actuality he’s thinking about some random thought like “at exactly what point does bread become toast?”

When Dustin and Steve spoke on the phone, there was something else. Something that only Billy got to see which made all of the unusual make perfect sense. Steve fucking loved the kid. Dustin could say the stupidest shit and Steve would never fail to laugh. As much as he groaned when the walkie went off at two in the morning, or when Dustin barged into his home unannounced, a smile never failed to peek through tightly sealed lips. He  _ enjoyed  _ when Dustin annoyed him because for so long that phone never came off the hook and that front door never heard a knock. And unfortunately for Billy, Dustin beat him to that.

Billy loved seeing Steve happy, don’t get him wrong. He loved that Steve had a good friend like that, even if it was an eighth grader. Hell, Billy liked the kid too…

But damn that kid also had absolutely zero boundaries.

Billy was warned from the start of their relationship that this kid would just randomly show up or call and Steve never had the heart to turn him away or not answer the phone  _ no matter what they were doing, _ and Billy just had to play along with it. Billy could be in the middle of choking on Steve’s dick and once the echo of a fist banging against a wooden door paired with the prepubescent scream entered the house, everything was either hurried, or just completely put on pause. He’d then either be told to sneak out the back or camp up in his room until he left, which usually wasn’t until hours later.

It took about a month of the two of them officially dating before Dustin inevitably found out, which was honestly a surprisingly long amount of time considering his  _ severe _ lack of boundaries. Dustin had chosen the  _ perfect _ day not to knock or announce his presence, just as Steve was balls deep inside of him. The two of them were being loud and it was clear by the sounds they were making  _ exactly  _ what they were doing. 

Even after all of the precautions Billy had taken to make his presence at Steve’s entirely unknown, parking his car half a mile down the road, making sure no possessions were ever left behind, Dustin still found out.

At first, they thought they might just be safe when Dustin’s voice came through the door.

“Steve! do you have a girl in there!?” he screamed in that same cracked voice. Dustin sounded completely incredulous to which Steve was slightly offended. Dustin asked it like even the premise of Steve having someone over was laughable. Well, the joke was on him. 

“Wait for me downstairs,” Steve shouted back while he frantically pulled his legs through his jeans and tossed Billy’s own scattered clothes at him, “I’ll be down in a minute alright?” Steve, bless his heart, had way too much trust in others to do what they should, and he actually let himself believe that Dustin would just go downstairs and not ask any questions about “who was making him moan like that,” and that would just be the end of it. In Steve’s mind, for just that moment, he truly believed Billy could just sneak out the back door like he’d done every time before like this was no big deal. 

The point is, Steve should not have been surprised that when he opened his bedroom door after finally getting fully dressed, the short curly haired boy was standing right there with his ear pressed to the wall, with a shocked expression as he managed to catch a glimpse of the mullet wearing, half-naked man that was in Steve’s bed.

“Holy shit,” Dustin said under his breath, his eyes locked in perfect contact with Billy’s, the two of them staring at each other with shocked expressions, completely frozen in place, unable to move. “Is that–” 

Dustin was cut off by Steve slamming the door behind him. Leaving Billy inside the room while Steve and Dustin stood awkwardly in silence in the hallway. Steve tapped his foot and blew air out of his mouth as he tried to navigate a way out of it. There should be  _ some _ logical explanation as to  _ why _ Steve Harrington had a shirtless Billy Hargrove in his bed on a Friday evening.

Yeah, he’s got nothing.

“Look I can explain,” Steve began, despite not having a goddamn clue as to where he was going with it. Just planned to start the sentence and hopefully find it along the way. “We were just…  _ Studying?” _

Dustin cocked his head to the side. “Without clothes on?” he asked.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Obviously not.” Dustin stated plainly. Steve just stood there with his back to the door, sighing heavily, tightly closing his eyes hoping that when he opened them back up, he wouldn’t see Dusting standing there because it just  _ had _ to be some kind of nightmare. But no, of course when he opened his eyes back up Dustin was still there  _ staring at him. _ God, Dustin’s eyes could fucking drill a hole into your soul like a knife through warm butter. “So, let me get this straight. Your idea of a rebound from Nancy Wheeler is a  _ guy? _ And it’s  _ Billy Hargrove no less?” _

“Just let me explain.”

“Does this mean you’re gay now?”

“Dustin–”

“What about Nancy, did you not love her?”

“Dustin, just fucking–”

“How long were you planning on keeping this from me?”

“Would you just listen–”

“Wait, so Billy Hargrove is gay? Oh wait until Max hears about this–”

“Hey!” Steve shouted, loud and striking enough that it finally shut Dustin up. “You can’t fucking tell  _ anyone. _ You hear me?” Steve was towering over Dustin in that moment, his back was no longer rested against the door and instead he was standing just inches away from Dustin. He had a hand on his shoulder and a finger poking into his chest. “I still have the bat under my bed.”

Dustin was completely speechless. A new look for him. He just looked up at Steve with wide eyes and nodded his head assuringly. Following the nod, Steve allowed himself to fall back into the door and slide down the length of it until he was sitting on the floor with his knees tucked up to his chest and his head bowed. 

“Go ahead, ask questions,” Steve said, his voice hushed and upset, “one at a time please.”

Dustin audibly cleared his throat. “Are you gay?” 

Steve sighed. “I’m bisexual. It means I–”

“I know what bisexual means dipshit,” Dustin cut him off, earning a slight chuckle out of Steve. “Okay, next question. Is Billy your  _ boyfriend?” _

Steve couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t until recently that they had actually used that word for each other. Just the two of them sitting at the quarry after midnight in Billy’s car, passing a joint back and forth between the two of them as they looked up at the stars through the front windshield. Billy had leaned over and planted a rather aggressive kiss to Steve’s lips. Tongue darting into his mouth. Steve had been completely caught off guard by the sudden heat that he had to ask “what are you doing?” with a laugh. 

“Does a guy need to have a reason to kiss his _ boyfriend?” _

They didn’t even make a big deal out of it. They both recognized that it was the first time either of them had said it, but it didn’t feel like what everyone expected it should feel like. No shock, no celebratory fireworks, just felt like a statement of a fact. Just totally simple and natural and  _ right.  _ And Steve had decided to simply answer Billy’s question with the slight shake of the head and the pull of his neck back toward him, their lips sealed together once again tasting the mix of beer and weed on each other's tongues.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend.” Steve finally answered when he came back from the memory. He was slightly shocked with the level of calmness Dustin had over the whole situation. That kid hadn’t been calm a day in his life and there he was just nodding his head and asking questions like Steve was his teacher and he was preparing for an exam. “Any more questions?” 

“Yeah. One.  _ Why?”  _ The look on Dustin’s face was unmistakable disgust.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “Fuckin’ beats me!” Steve threw his hands up in the air. “He’s hot, what can I say?”

“He beat you up!”

“That was kinda hot too.”

“STEVE! GROSS!”

Steve just let himself release a laugh and relax a little bit against the door he was leaning on. For just a couple of seconds he had that feeling like it was just any other conversation he had with Dustin. Just like the conversations they’d have when Dustin was fawning over some girl in his grade and asking Steve for advice, making jokes and taking jabs at each other feeling like brothers. 

“Are we good?” Steve asked, hoping to maintain that brotherhood they had formed, while at the same time hoping to protect the guy that was likely panicking beneath the sheets through the door behind his back. 

“I mean, yeah?” Dustin looked almost sad in the way he responded. His face had fallen and the scrunched eyebrows of confusion had relaxed and drooped. “As long as we can we still hang out.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I’ll just tell Billy to go and–“

“No. He can stay, I mean, if he wants to.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Billy declined staying to hang out, despite how insistent Dustin was about it, and he instead left on his own, which would have worried Steve relentlessly if Dustin hadn’t given Billy his word that he’d keep his lips sealed. And somehow in that moment, Dustin looking him dead on and standing completely still declaring he wouldn’t tell a soul, he genuinely believed him. There was still that gentle “what if?” panging at the inside of his skull the whole drive home, but he wasn’t panicked or worried he didn’t feel much of anything really. That initial fear he had when he first made eye contact with Dustin through the gap in the door had simply vanished and he couldn’t really put his finger on it as to why that was. It just was.

From that day on, Dustin had been better about knocking and tended to warn Steve more often than not that he would be coming over, but yet, despite having walked in on the two of them once, he still did show up to Steve’s house unannounced sometimes. The kid still lacked proper boundaries and had no qualms about wedging a seat right in between the two of them on the sofa as they watched a movie, no hesitation in taking the bowl of popcorn from Steve’s hands with his only greeting being “what are we watching?”

And as much as Billy would like to just have Steve all to himself when he could, it was kind of nice having another person in the know about the two of them and it just felt so natural. It helped drill in the notion that what they were doing wasn’t gross or unnatural. It stopped feeling like a dirty little secret when he was around.

But what still felt like a dirty little secret was  _ the other thing. _ The little piece of himself that only three people at this point had been given the key to. 

When Dustin came over that day, it wasn’t like when he’d walked in on him and Steve in bed that first time. Billy and Steve were both upstairs in Steve’s bedroom working their way through the contents of the cardboard box Max had given him just a week prior. Trying out every lipstick shade and eye shadow pigment and just having a good time together. They weren’t expecting Dustin that day, but they were always kind of expecting him anyway, so when Dustin had walked through the front door and shouted up the stairs with that same scratchy voice of his, they weren’t too alarmed.

It was hardly the first time Dustin had come over in the middle of something like that. There had been multiple occasions of Billy scrubbing at his nails with acetone or hiding his hands in his pockets when he didn’t have the chance to take it off.

Steve was already readying the makeup remover as soon as Dustin’s voice entered the room, but there was a feeling Billy got that he didn’t recognize that day that led him to absentmindedly stop Steve from reaching for the makeup wipes by the gentle grab of his wrist. Billy could see himself in the mirror from across the room. Lips glossy and tinted with a fuchsia pink that closely matched the blush to his cheeks. Neutral browns and beiges blended into his eyelids accentuated with black and elongated lashes that could turn the tide with just a blink. His hair was tucked back behind his ears with one of the little discarded barrettes that he’d found loose at the bottom of the cardboard box. His chin was up and his head was held high and taking off the good feeling with a swipe of a wet wipe wasn’t something he wanted to do.

And he finally felt like he didn’t have to.

Dustin had proven to the both of them that he was accepting and trustworthy. He’d gone months with his lips sealed and it never seemed awkward when they’d sit too close to each other on the couch or their hands interlocked. To him it was as normal as anything else. 

So Dustin was an opportunity. He was an opportunity for Billy to truly take all of this into his own hands. No more being ‘found out’. No more getting walked in on having a mental breakdown wrapped in lace, no more getting caught red handed in the makeup aisle or wrist deep in his step sister's makeup. No more of having the choice ripped away from him against his will and too soon. A voluntary leap forward as opposed to the familiar shove over the cliff he was used to.

“It’s okay,” Billy finally said, still looking at himself in the mirror and not to Steve, who had been standing there in the center of the room restricted by Billy’s hold on his, confused, “I think I’ll leave it on.”

Billy looked to Steve with hopeful eyes and a tight smile and Steve matched his expression. Steve wanted nothing more than to pull Billy right in for a kiss but didn’t want to risk ruining his look. Steve was just oozing with pride over him and opted to instead pull Billy into a tight bear hug, squeezing all of the air right out of his lungs.

“You’re a hundred percent sure?” Steve asks excitedly.

Billy nodded his head and took Steve’s hand in his own, using the feeling of his palm against his own as his grounding force, his rock, his ‘just in case’ even if he was confident that he didn’t need it. The two of them walked down the stairs together, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. They rounded the corner to see Dustin already rummaging through the cupboards like a fucking raccoon, his head shoved all the way through the doors like he was trying to reach Narnia.

“Steve! You’re out of Oreo’s!” He screamed, voice muffled.

Billy was starting to shake a little, the rattling felt by Steve through his hand. Billy hated anticipation. He hated that stretch of time where he was forced to wait for a reaction where all time seemed to stop completely, where his heart paused its rhythm and his lungs refused to release their air, waiting for the eternity to come to an end and for the person to finally notice so he could finally exhale.

But Dustin showed no signs of quitting his quest to find  _ something _ to eat in the cabinet that Billy would have to agree was in desperate need of being restocked. Steve responded to Billy’s evident growing nervousness by leading them both over to the couch and sitting in front of the TV, having Billy lean up against him, wrapped in his arms so his warmth encompassed him and he didn’t have to look at Dustin while they waited. Steve pressed kisses into Billy’s hair and held him tight, something that a month prior would have felt so foreign to Billy, so wrong and frightening to do in the presence of someone that wasn’t just themselves. But with Dustin it was comfortable and natural and it didn’t feel weird or wrong, so why should the makeup?

Billy didn’t want to make a huge deal out of it. He most certainly didn’t want to give some elaborate speech on why he does what he does, especially when he really has no clue either, but he did expect there to be questions. Dustin and his fucking “curiousity paddles” surely would have at least  _ some questions. _

No matter how comfortable Billy was or said he was, he still braced himself when he heard the footsteps coming from behind along with the sounds of crinkling bags of chips. He was preparing all of the possible outcomes in his mind, playing over like movie scenes. The one where Dustin rounded the corner and just stood and stared at Billy like he was some deformed creature, causing him to dramatically drop the entire contents of what he was holding in his arms. The one where Dustin gave him a disgusted look and said something along the lines of “why do you look like a girl?” or something else he knew he should probably get used to hearing.

What he didn’t expect, what didn’t play over in his mind as a potential possibility was Dustin turning the corner to where he could see Billy clearly, no pause in his step before sitting down on the couch beside the two of them with an aggressive flop, and a glance over to Billy with a non-expression like he was looking at an easy to read textbook.

What he didn’t expect was for Dustin to say what he did after only seconds of looking his way.

“You look nice.” 

He says it so casually like he’s simply complimenting a friend. Dustin doesn’t recognize the weight behind his words and just immediately goes to turn on the TV and open up one of the several bags of potato chips he somehow found lurking in the depths of Steve’s pantry, all the while Billy is tightly clutching Steve’s hand that’s still holding his and fighting back the urge to cry over just how easy it all was. No questions out of the kid who was always full of them, because he had nothing to ask. He not only didn’t have some big extravagant reaction to the whole ordeal, but he even said he looked nice and all of it just fueled him so full of every bit of confidence and euphoria and validation without a proper way to let that all out.

Except with an exhale. An easy release of air from his lungs that let all of that nervous tension he let creep up on him fade away, and go completely relaxed nestled into Steve’s shoulder as the three of them watched a movie together like they always did, like it wasn’t weird at all that Billy was a guy who wore lipstick and eyeshadow and fell in love with Steve Harrington, the guy he always made fun of for having a fourteen year-old for a best friend.

  
But right then, Billy understood it. He  _ actually  _ understood it.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr; [mourntheantagonist](https://mourntheantagonist.tumblr.com)
> 
> comments and kudos fill me with inconceivable joy


End file.
